The Man in the Green Hat
by wordsafterhours
Summary: Sometimes, things cross our paths that we never knew was out there, much less knew we needed. You hear about fate all the time, but you don't give it much thought, because it's fate and no one has time to hang dreams on such an idea. But, that's the thing about life, it always surprises you. (One shot, considering multi-chapter)


The Boy in the Green Hat

My eyes darted around the dimly light room, observing the various surroundings as the hum of others' conversations tickled my ears. I'd been sitting on this worn stool for almost an hour, watching the bar door in anticipation of Johanna walking through it. This wasn't my usual scene; I didn't do bars or girl's night out… I didn't socialize, especially not on a Friday night after work. But the constant nagging had grown old and I was ready to do anything to end it.

I glanced down at my phone screen, checking it for what must have been the fiftieth time that night. A picture of my dog and I stared back at me, along with the time, which read: 7:38. When she finally got here, I was going to give her a thorough ass-chewing. I'd had the better half an hour to plan exactly what I was going to say.

I motioned with two fingers at the bartender, indicating for another scotch. He gave a sympathetic smile and poured the amber liquid into the glass. "On the house," he murmured. I took a long sip, enjoying the alcohol burn as it slid down my throat. I wasn't sure how much longer I was supposed to wait, this sort of thing didn't happen to me often. This was a lesson for the future, don't ever give into Laurel. I was missing Netflix for this.

My glass was just about empty when I felt someone approach the bar to the right of me. The smell of vanilla with some sort of earthy undertone immediately hit my nostrils, and I glanced to see who had taken up residence next to the lonely girl at the end of the bar. The stranger was wearing an army green baseball cap, shadowing half his face. His jawline was well-defined, smattered with a barely noticeable amount of blonde scruff. He possessed broad shoulders, his t-shirt taught over them. Without a doubt, I could say he was handsome without actually seeing his face.

He voice was low and warm, as he ordered a much fancier scotch than what I was currently sipping. I turned my attention back to my glass, idly tracing the rim. I expected the man to leave but instead he took up shop and sat down.

"Do you believe in fate?' he asked quietly. It took me a few fuddled seconds to realize his question was directed at me.

I looked over into a pair of unfamiliar blue eyes. They were the bluest eyes I could ever recall encountering. My assumption at him being attractive was correct. He was handsome, but in an unassuming way—like the boy-next-door way. The neighbor you always wanted to run out of sugar, so he'd knock and ask to borrow some.

He stared back, giving a small encouraging smile and quirking his eye brow up awaiting my reply. "What do you mean do I believe in fate?" I asked incredulously.

A small chuckle passed his lips and he turned his entire body towards me, getting comfortable. "Exactly, what I asked, do you believe in a grand plan laid out for you at birth? That our destiny is written in the stars? You know, _fate_?"

I replied without much though, "Sure, doesn't everyone?"

"You'd be surprised in the number of people who don't. Real surprised." That statement seemed weighted and I hoped he'd offer more explanation, but he didn't. His lighthearted humor evaporated, leaving only a brooding atmosphere behind.

"I think it'd be safe to say you've had quite a bad day."

"It's been awful, but I don't need to trouble you with it." He flagged the bar tender down and ordered another round, graciously adding me into that equation.

I sipped at the liquid again, contemplating the enigma that was Green Hat. I'd spent twenty minutes with the guy and I was yearning to spend twenty more without a second thought. A stranger who sits down and jumps into the meat of things has to be someone worth knowing.

"I'll tell you my views on fate, since you seem like you need to hear something good. Everything happens for a reason, luck and fate are the same damn thing. It just depends how you look at life. Things might take a day or take a year, but if it's meant to be, it'll be." I placed my hand upon his worn one resting on the bar and gave a reassuring squeeze.

"How is it that I've talked to you for all of half an hour, and I feel like I have more in common with you, than people I've known my whole life? That was exactly what I needed to hear."

"Maybe it's fate," I shot back with a smirk.

He looked as though he was going sprout off more serious conversation, but my attention was deferred when the familiar southern voice of my friend rang through the air. "I'm so sorry, Katniss. There was this ridiculous five-car pileup and they rerouted us, and then on that detour was another accident. It was such a damn mess. My phone is dead, too, so I couldn't tell you all of that." She ended her ramble with a plop down beside me. I stared at her, taking in her flustered appearance, not caring much about her excuse.

"It's alright, I'm not mad."

"You aren't mad?!" she shot back in disbelief.

"No, I've had the best company while waiting on you," I replied before indicating behind me. Johanna's soft features grew confused and I turned back to my right, taking in the empty stool. Beneath the empty tumbler, sat a dollar bill with a number and messily scrawled message, _I'd say it was serendipity more than fate. Let's discuss._

Discuss we would, I thought to myself as I tucked the dollar bill in my jeans and turned back to my date.


End file.
